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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29999610">tip a glass for crazy lovers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CirrusGrey/pseuds/CirrusGrey'>CirrusGrey</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dancing, Drinking, Episode Related, Forgiveness, M/M, Melancholy, Reminiscing, episode 198 spoilers, fourth-wall-breaking in the form of heavy foreshadowing that The End Is Nye, rating is for an overall heavy tone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:35:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,723</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29999610</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CirrusGrey/pseuds/CirrusGrey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>SPOILERS FOR MAG 198!!!</p><p>While Basira catches up with Melanie and Georgie, Jon pulls Martin aside to talk in private.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>149</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>tip a glass for crazy lovers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <i>So take me out dancing</i>
  <br/>
  <i>On a Saturday night</i>
  <br/>
  <i>We’ll tip a glass for crazy lovers</i>
  <br/>
  <i>And I’ll sing my song to you</i>
</p><p>~ "Sweet Mystery," by my Dad, written for my Mom</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They are several hours later and several bottles in by the time Jon, Martin, and Basira have finished telling Melanie and Georgie about everything that happened with Annabelle at Hill Top Road. The alcohol is creating a warm buzz over the room, making the glow from the small camping lanterns they are using for light seem fuzzy and soft.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well," Melanie sighs, after a long moment of silence. "That's... that's a lot."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We should all take some time to think about it," Jon says, and Martin feels him shift where he is sitting next to him. "Before we make a decision. I doubt any of us are comfortable going ahead with something like this without unanimous agreement."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a murmur of consensus around the room, and then they all fall silent once more, avoiding each other's eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Georgie is the first to break it, lifting the bottle from the floor next to her to see if there is anything left inside and then tipping it into her glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, Basira," she says, her voice laced with false cheer. "What've you been up to? You did say you'd tell us."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is a transparently obvious attempt to break the tension in the room, but it makes Melanie perk up with interest, and Martin figures that was probably the point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, how have you been?" she asks. "It's been so long since I've seen you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basira shrugs; gives a small half-smile. "Oh, you know. Surviving, mostly. Ran into a few familiar faces."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, Martin told me a bit of it," Melanie says, nodding. "Apparently you rescued him from being held at knifepoint?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Basira laughs, and Martin chuckles along, and then his attention is pulled away from the conversation as Jon leans in to whisper in his ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come with me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin looks at him, and shrugs, and the two of them scramble up from the floor where they had been sitting and leave the room while the others are catching up. Jon grabs one of the camping lanterns as they go, to light the way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leads Martin to an empty tunnel, not too far from where their friends are talking but far enough that they can no longer hear the echo of their voices, and then sets the lantern on the ground and turns to face him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Everything alright?" Martin asks, because Jon has not said anything since leaving the room and there is an odd, pensive look on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I just wanted some time alone," he says, and then steps forward and loops his arms around Martin's shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin returns it without hesitation, relaxing in Jon's embrace. He lingers for a moment, in the silence and stillness of it, before asking, "So... what do you think? About- about Annabelle's plan, I mean. What should we do?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon sighs, a tired and heavy sound. "I don't know. I... really, really don't know. I want to hear what everyone else has to say, once they've had time to think."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin nods, knowing Jon will feel the movement even if he cannot see it. The choice ahead of them is too huge - the price of whatever move they make too high - for any one person to make it alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A thought occurs to him, and he chuckles, muffling the noise Jon's shoulder so it doesn't echo off the tunnel walls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What is it?" Jon asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I just thought," Martin begins, still smiling. "How do you think the rest of humanity would feel - all the millions upon millions of them, here and in every other world - if they knew their fates were held in the hands of a couple of half-drunk thirtysomethings who only got into this world saving business because they took a bad job?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon laughs. It is a bright sound, a happy sound, one that Martin has not heard in far too long, and it bounces off the tunnel walls for a moment before he presses his face into Martin's hair to stifle it. Martin can feel the warm puff of his breath over his scalp, disjointed and juddering as he tries to bring himself back under control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"God," he says eventually, shaking his head. "Not very good, I'd imagine."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's not funny. It shouldn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>be </span>
  </em>
  <span>funny. But Martin is still smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are swaying, slightly, where they stand, the purposeless rocking of two people with their arms wrapped around each other, compensating for their different centers of balance. Martin moves his hands down to Jon's hips, shifts his feet just a little, turns it into something adjacent to a dance. Jon's lips land against his temple, and Martin can feel his smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know what this reminds me of?" Jon asks, and Martin makes a questioning hum against his collarbone. "The cabin."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin chuckles. "What, getting piss-drunk and dancing in the kitchen at 2am?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Martin echoes. "Me too."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frees one of Jon's hands from his shoulder; holds it in his own and attempts to twirl Jon under his arm. It doesn't quite work, and they get a little tangled, but it lands them in such a position that Martin is able to dip Jon over his arm instead, so he thinks it was worth it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon kisses him once they are upright again, still holding hands, Martin's free arm around Jon's waist and Jon's around his shoulders, and they press their foreheads together and just breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I keep thinking," Martin says, and has to pause to swallow the lump that has risen into his throat. "What I wouldn't give for one more night. One more night to just be ourselves, to just be two people in love, and not have to worry about being heroes as well."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon does not say anything, but his hand tightens around Martin's and Martin knows he feels the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry," Martin continues after a moment, voice barely above a whisper. "For our, um... 'blazing row'." He smiles, a little, recalling Jon's choice of words. "I lost my cool, I shouldn't have."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We both could have handled it better," Jon says quietly, resting his cheek against the top of Martin's head. "I'm sorry too. But it's behind us now. Yeah?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's genuine sincerity in his voice; he is asking for confirmation, not stating the way things will be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Martin says, and leans forward into Jon, trusting him to take his weight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Besides," Jon adds after a moment. "I think it's some sort of couples' initiation. Having a blazing row that someone storms away from, making up afterward..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin laughs; a choking, broken thing. "Guess I kind of mucked that bit up too." He continues before Jon can try to deny it: "I'm sorry for going with Annabelle without telling you. I- I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don't </span>
  </em>
  <span>regret hearing her out, I'm glad we know what she had to say, but... I should have tried to find a way to contact you. I'm sorry that I didn't."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon sighs. Martin can feel it ruffling his hair, feel the force and frustration of it. "I am..." he begins, </span>
  <em>
    <span>"...annoyed,</span>
  </em>
  <span> with how it happened. And I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrified </span>
  </em>
  <span>for your lack of self preservation. But yes," he sighs again. "I agree that it's probably for the best that we know. So we can... weigh all our options. Properly."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason, that makes tears sting at Martin's eyes. Despite everything, he still thinks it was worth risking his own life to save Jon's; one way or another, he was bait in the end, just a lure to draw Jon in, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>important </span>
  </em>
  <span>enough to warrant being put in actual danger. Self-esteem issues, and all that: he doesn't know if he deserves Jon's forgiveness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know you can be mad at me for it, right?" he says, hiding his face in Jon's shoulder even so. "I know you told Basira you were waiting until I was ready, but... I'm ready." He scoffs, a little, at himself. "I'm not, like, trembling under the force of unspeakable trauma, or anything. You can yell at me for leaving."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon's response, when it comes, is not what Martin expects. "I- I know that," he says. "It's just... I have this... </span>
  <em>
    <span>feeling.</span>
  </em>
  <span> This- this horrible sense of dread, that whatever we choose... whatever path we take... we don't have much time left together. And I don't want to waste what we have on anger."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin feels his heart crack. He understands, is the thing: there is a sense of inevitability hanging over his head, a feeling of oncoming, irreversible doom. He does not know if it extends to their friends; does not know what it portends for the world; but for him and Jon, there is an end coming, and he wants to make the most of whatever precious time they have left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I love you," he says, and instead of responding Jon lets go of his hand, and cups his cheeks between his palms, and kisses him, soft and slow, holding his face like he's something precious. In Jon's hands, he can almost believe that he is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If we get out of this," Jon says, low and grave, "I promise you, I will yell at you until I lose my voice. Okay?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Martin's laugh is more a sob than anything; he feels a tear streak down his cheek, and Jon kisses it away. His eyes are damp, as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Martin says, fragile and wavering, and tucks his face back into the join between Jon's shoulder and neck, taking comfort from the one place on earth that will always feel like home. One of Jon's hands comes up to stroke through his hair, gently and carefully, and he can feel him pulling the lingering cobwebs away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is not long after that when Basira's voice comes echoing up the tunnel, wondering where they've run off to and informing them that the others are ready to talk about their plans. Martin dries his eyes on his sleeve, and offers Jon a wavering smile; Jon gives him an equally unsteady one in return.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ready?" he asks quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Martin answers, and bends to pick up the lantern in one hand. He seeks out Jon with the other, lacing their fingers together. "But I'll go, anyway."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon nods, squeezing his hand, and leads the way back to their friends.</span>
</p>
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